HIGH PRIEST,

No more:

Ceafe your loud plaints, the wretch's poor refource;
Yield to the pow'r fupreme, who means to try
His people by affliction; with a word

He can destroy, and with a word can fave:

He knows that death is here; the cries of Thebes
Have reach'd his throne.

proaches,

Behold! the king ap

And heav'n by me declares its will divine;

The fates will foon to Oedipus unveil

Their myst'ries all, and happier days fucceed.

SCENE III.

OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, HIGH PRIEST, EGINA, DIMAS, ARASPES, CHORUS.

OEDIPUS.

O ́ye, who to this hallow'd temple bring
The mournful off'ring of your tears; O what,
What shall I fay to my afflicted people?
Wou'd I cou'd turn the wrath of angry heav'n
Against myself, and quench the deadly flame!
But O! in univerfal ills like thefe,

Kings are but men, and only can partake.
The common danger.. Say, thou minifter

Of

Of the juft gods, fay, do they ftill refuse
To hear the voice of mif'ry; ftill relentless
Will they behold us perifh, are they deaf

And filent ftill?

HIGH PRIEST.

King, people, listen all :

This night did I behold the flame of heav'n
Defcending on our altars; to my eyes
The ghaftly shade of Laius then appear'd,
Indignant frown'd upon me, and thus spoke
In fearful accents, terrible to hear:

“The death of Laius is still unreveng❜d,

"The murth'rer lives in Thebes, and doth infect
"The wholesome air with his malignant breath;
"He must be known, he must be punished,
And on his fate depends the people's fafety."

OEDIPUS.

Juftly ye fuffer, Thebans, for this crime;
Laius was once your lov'd and honour'd king,
And your neglect hath from his manes drawn
This vengeance on you. Such is oft the fate
Of the best fov'reigns; whilst they live, respect
Waits on their laws, their justice is admir'd,
And they like gods are ferv'd, like gods ador'd;

but

But after death they fink into oblivion.
No longer then your flatt'ring incense burns:
The fervile mind of wretched man ftill bends
To int'reft; and when virtue is departed,
'Tis foon forgotten: therefore doth the blood
Of murther'd Laius now cry out against you,
And fues for vengeance to offended heav'n.
To sprinkle on his tomb the murth'rer's blood
Will better far than flaughter'd hecatombs
Appeafe his fpirit: be it all our care

To feek the guilty wretch. Can none remember
Aught touching this fad deed? Amidst your signs
And wonders, cou'd no footsteps c'er be trac'd
Of this unpunish'd crime? They always told me
It was a Theban, who against his Prince

Uplifted his rebellious hand. For me

[To focafta. Who from thy hands receiv'd the crown, two years

After the death of Laius did I mount

The throne of Thebes, and never fince that hour
Wou'd I recall the subject of thy tears,
But in refpectful filence waited ftill;
Still have thy dangers bufy'd all my foul,

Nor left me time to think on aught but thee.

JOCASTA.

JOCASTA.

When fate, which had referv'd me for thy arms,
Depriv'd me of my late unhappy lord,

Who, journeying o'er his kingdom's frontiers, fell
By base affaffins, Phorbas then alone

Attended him, his lov'd and valued friend ;.

To whom the king, relying on his wisdom, Entrusted half his pow'r: he brought to Thebes The mangled corfe: himself half dead with wounds, And bath'd in blood, fell at Jocafta's feet; "Villains unknown (he cry'd) have flain the king; "Thefe eyes beheld it: I was dying too, "But heaven hath reftor'd me to prolong

"A wretched life." He faid no more. My foul Distracted faw the melancholy truth

Was ftill conceal'd; and therefore heav'n perhaps Conceal'd the murth'rer too; perhaps accomplish'd Its own eternal will, and made us guilty,

That it might punish. Soon the sphinx appear'd, And laid our country wafte: then hapless Thebes, Attentive to her safety, cou'd not think

On Laius' fate, whilft trembling for her own.

OEDIPUS.

Where is that faithful Phorbas? lives he ftill?

JOCASTA.

JOCASTA.

Alas! his zeal and service ill repaid,

Too pow'rful to be lov'd, the jealous state
His fecret foe, nobles and people join'd
To punish him for past felicity.

The multitude accus'd him, ev'n demanded
Of me his death: fore prefs'd on ev'ry fide,
I knew not how to pardon or condemn,
But to a neighbouring castle I convey'd him,
And hid the guiltless victim from their rage.
There four long winters hath the poor old man,
To future favorites a fad example,

Without a murmur or complaint remain’d,
And hopes from innocence alone release.

OEDIPUS.

It is enough, Jocafta. Fly, begone,

[To his fervants.

Open the prison, bring him hither strait,

We will examine him before you all;

Laius and Thebes shall be aveng'd together:

Yes, we will hear and judge, will found the depth
Of this ftrange mystery. Ye gods of Thebes,
Who hear our pray'rs, and know the murth'rer, now
Reveal, and punish; and thou, Sun, with-hold

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